


A sunray on your skin

by Mother_North



Series: Yuzuhei [1]
Category: Baseball RPF, Figure Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Height Differences, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Morning Sex, Porn with Feelings, Secret Relationship, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 11:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17304065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: “You are so wild, Yuzu.”Yuzuru smirks into his moist skin and there is a stubborn sunray crawling up his refined shoulder blade, Shohei’s fingertips ghosting right next to it.





	A sunray on your skin

**Author's Note:**

> This world needs more Shohei\Yuzuru. Well, here goes my first take on them ;P
> 
> RPF disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and it is not meant to offend anyone. It is a product of author’s imagination only. All thoughts, actions and emotions described below have nothing to do with reality.

*

 

It is still early morning; a flight in the dead of night and a jet lag kicking in hard. A stubborn sunray from a panoramic window is crawling up his strong neck and chin, all the way up to his nose. His eyelashes are quivering as he keeps on sleeping, a quiet snorting resonating off the walls of the bedroom. It makes Yuzuru smile inwardly as he watches this big man sleep peacefully, appearing almost childlike. It is a paradox Yuzuru thinks and his fingers are itching to touch, _to feel_. He wants to be sure that the man next to him is real, a six-foot-something body of raw strength and explosive power. He likes to think that it belongs to him, the thought often making him warm inside even when they are apart (and it should be noted that most of the time they really are).

Yuzuru stretches with a catlike grace, his pulse starting to beat a tad faster, touch-starved body aching to feel those big yet gentle palms on his hips and around his tiny waist. He watches his lover shift, sighing in his slumber and holds his breath not to wake him up. He will wait, he got used to waiting through this year and a half of clandestine romance. They have to be _very_ careful but Yuzuru knows that such mornings as this one, no matter how seldom they are, are totally worth it. He is lying on his side, gaze wandering over the man’s face: the little furrow of his brow, the curve of his lips and closed eye-lids — he is cataloguing his features in his memory, intending to keep it there for as long as he can. He got used to hearing his voice at the other end of the line, distorted and distant but he knows that there will be warmth in abandon in it once he hears it himself in flesh and blood, whispering hotly into his ear.

Yuzuru lets his fingers hover above the man’s cheekbone just for a moment; it is an impulse that he subdues with the help of his will — _for now._  Yuzuru wants this tranquil morning to freeze in time, to steal it from the hands of fate which will inevitably have them far away from one another by tomorrow evening.

Yuzuru often asks himself _why_? Why is he willing to lead this life of secret trysts and lies and constant risqué. They are both elite athletes in high demand and they know perfectly well that they do not belong to themselves fully at this point, all the more so — to each other. It fills him with bitterness and he has to blink several times for his vision began blurring, a dear to his heart profile losing its shape. Tears are of no use and he realizes they have to do more with his own strained nerves than something else. Yuzuru doesn’t want to spoil the precious time they have. He is concentrating on keeping his inner demons at bay, chasing away anxiousness and compulsive overthinking.

_What if?_

What if they will be discovered?

What if Shohei gets tired of hiding?

What if he loves him too much?

What if he is not loved enough?

Yuzuru buries his face into a pillow, a frustrated sigh escaping him. He lies completely still for a couple of minutes, trying to regain his composure, listening to Shohei’s even breathing which soothes him like few things in this life do. It is pleasant to think that he is needed the way he is, with his insatiable hunger and need to be adored, with his wild passion and abundance of emotions; he is prone to mood swings and he can be overly strict and domineering at times but he tells himself that _he is loved_.

In the morning — I am loved;

In broad daylight — I am needed;

In the dusk of the evening — I am cared about;

In the stillness of night — I am wanted.

It is always _I am, I am, I am_ when it comes to him. He is made this way and he can’t change. _He won’t change_. Perhaps, he sometimes craves too much but Yuzuru has never been afraid to pay the price if needed; he didn’t run away from challenges, being able to find solutions even while seemingly cornered in the most unexpected of ways.

Yuzuru wills his body to relax, his set jaw beginning to hurt a little. He won’t give up, won’t _give him away_. He is ready to fight distance and steal from time itself, he knows this man with big hands and kind eyes can make him happy. Yuzuru turns his head to look at Shohei once more envying the sunray which has now moved to his temple and dark locks by its side. He bites his lip before crawling out of bed, trying to make it as stealthily as possible.

_A ninja mode on._

He slips on Shohei’s t-shirt, the magical “ _17”_ at his back and it goes past his bare thighs like a mini dress. Red has always suited his pale complexion and raven-black hair. Soft cotton against his even softer skin is making him shiver involuntarily and he is painfully aware of the scent the t-shirt still keeps — poignant musk to lose your head from. His nipples are strangely sensitive and he feels his whole being drown in longing, a wave of heat hitting hard.

Yuzuru doesn’t believe in telepathy or any kind of supernatural elements but the moment he bites back a needy groan there is Shohei Ohtani towering over him in mere inches. His perched lips are rough against his impossibly tender ones and he moans not able to resist the feverish onslaught of the man’s tongue inside his mouth. He lets himself getting carried away, two powerful arms lifting him up to hold against a naked muscled chest. Yuzuru is clutching Shohei’s shoulders not letting their frantic kissing session stop for a second. He yearns to be devoured and he is _greedy_ like he always is: small bites and gentle sucks and then there is him dissolving in his lover’s taste without remnant.

Shohei throws him at the bed and the both of them are too high on desire to think straight, their bodies seeking contact: hot skin on skin; they are breathing the same air, getting closer where touch and feel reign supreme and there is no place for insecurities, self-doubts and fears. Yuzuru trusts their bodies do all of the talking and he knows he will be _understood_ : those red marks he is to leave on Shohei’s broad shoulders, the way he is clinging to the man’s chiseled torso with shameless desperation are part of language of _their love_.

And Yuzuru is _fluent_ in it: delicate hands pinching Shohei’s pert nipples to elicit deep groans, a kitten lick across his sternum and a trail of open-mouthed kisses along his abs to make him shiver. Shohei’s large palm covers the back of Yuzuru’s head and there is a distinct constant pressure when he finally cuts away the teasing altogether and takes the head of his hard cock into his mouth. It is a tough fit and his eyes begin to water immediately, yet he is moving further down, the back of his throat constricting convulsively.

He is pulled away after several hard thrusts and air burns his lungs, sweaty chest heaving.

“You are driving me crazy…I am afraid I won’t last this way, babe.”

 Shohei kisses his swollen lips with utmost gentleness and Yuzuru huffs into his mouth. He shoves Shohei with all of his might, making the man lie on his back again — defiant as ever. Yuzuru hides his heated face at the crook of Shohei’s neck, taking few calming breaths. He needs to regain his senses but it has never seemed harder. There is no need to hurry and Yuzuru wants to prolong their intimacy, to be blown away completely, to be destroyed and resurrected, humbled and worshipped…To be everything and nothing.

The preparation is thorough and Yuzuru makes a real show out of it: his fingers moving knowingly between his parted milky thighs, hitting the right spot inside, head thrown back in wanton ecstasy. It is a one-man spectacle and Shohei looks shaken, eyes wild with lust.

“Please…Please…Hurry up. Need you…now.”

Shohei’s quiet pleas reach its goal and Yuzuru straddles his powerful hips to guide him in. The burn of penetration makes Yuzuru cry out loud and he is moving torturously slow. At a certain point it seems like it is way _too much_. Still Yuzuru doesn’t stop and once he is fully seated they both shudder at the overwhelming sensation. Yuzuru sets a rhythm, Shohei’s thumbs at his protruding hipbones, a barely there touch of reassurance and utmost intimacy. The pleasure is on the verge of pain and when Shohei takes Yuzuru’s straining erection to give it several firm tugs Yuzuru arches into his hand beautifully, husky moans spilling from his mouth unrestrained and raw. He comes all over the man’s sculptured chest and stomach, yet once again marking him _as his own_ — his warm essence on the flushed, heated skin.

When Shohei climaxes inside him, groaning in animalistic ecstasy, Yuzuru feels dizzy from _fullness_ , his short nails digging into his lover’s shoulders with such force Shohei gasps in pain.

The sex feels as fantastic as a perfectly landed quad axel or a perfectly thrown baseball.

_It feels absolutely right._

They are lying entangled, totally spent and boneless and for one fleeting moment Yuzuru doesn’t know where his own body begins and ends; they are one and he thrives on the sensation.

“You are so wild, Yuzu.”

Yuzuru smirks into his moist skin and there is a stubborn sunray crawling up his refined shoulder blade, Shohei’s fingertips ghosting right next to it.

“I know.”

 

*


End file.
